


Peacekeeper

by griimdarks



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Background Relationships, Gen, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, as i keep writing this i'll end up adding more characters and maybe ships? idk fam, tfw your new recruit is a 17 year old BABY, this fic aka a prime example of papa!reyes and his new son jesse, this is happy stuff with a sprinkling of angst here and there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-28 13:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8447848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griimdarks/pseuds/griimdarks
Summary: The life and times of Jesse McCree; from hotshot criminal to finding a family.





	1. The Interrogation

Jesse McCree had always had worse.

Being holded up in a cell, handcuffed to the table, bruised and battered and bleeding while being interrogated wasn’t even in his top 5. Or top 10. Might have been top 20; Jesse had had a  _ lot _ of bad moments.

The people doing the interrogating? That was a whole other story.

One of them was bright and baby-faced, even though Jesse was sure he had been born a decade prior. His coat was too pastel, blue like the skies over Deadlock Gorge, blue like the calm seas. Jesse recognised him, he’d been plastered all over posters and newsreels. It was a comforting shade of blue, holding a rifle that looked like it had never seen a war, smiling a smile that screamed of glory and reassurance to a war-ravaged people.

Jesse hated him.

Sometimes, Pastel Blue would be swapped by a lady with a sharp eye and an even sharper tongue. Jesse couldn’t keep up with her; she was also mid-twenties at  _ least _ , eyes lined with kohl, a tattoo curling under one eye. She had a duller, more sombre blue beret on, one that had seen bloodshed and strife like Jesse had. Despite his reticence, he trusted her immediately. 

The third man was a constant during the interrogation, and he was easily the most terrifying person Jesse had ever met. Where Poster Boy was cheer and valour and “for the greater good”, this man was dark and all angles, arms crossed so tightly that Jesse swore you could cut yourself on the edge of his elbows, frowning so forcibly that Jesse was sure this man had no other expression.

Take one; they wanted information. Jesse told them to eat a dick.

Take one point five; Jesse learned that the sharp man had an even sharper temper.

Take two; they wanted information. Jesse told them to eat a bag of dicks.

“Enough,” the woman said, to the sharp man. She shifted, a curtain of jet black hair obscuring her face, but Jesse swore she was grinning. “Let the boy be.”

“He has  _ information _ , Ana,” the man growled. He caught Jesse staring and started, and Jesse almost jumped out of his chair.

“Oh, sure he does,” the woman, Ana, said, evenly. “A seventeen year old has more information than the Deadlock leader we have rotting in the other cell.”

The sharp man paused. “When you put it like  _ that _ …”

“Give the kid a break, Gabe,” She clapped him on the shoulder. “Get some food.” Then, louder. “You hungry? Want something? I can take a look at your arm, and that nasty bruise on your face.”

Jesse was sure his left elbow had been broken in the fight. Overwatch had given him a splint and the barest minimum in terms of pain relief. He almost bit through his bottom lip trying not to cry out when the sharp man - Gabe - struck him. 

“With all due respect, ma’am,” Jesse started to tip his hat, and remembered he didn’t have it. Fuck Overwatch. “I’d rather sit on a cactus.”

“That can be arranged-”

“ _ Gabe _ ,” Ana rolled her eyes. She motioned to the door and Gabe, scowling, stormed out.

Ana made sure the door had been shut behind Gabe. “You don’t need to act tough, child. I’m a medic, as well.” 

“Your good cop/bad cop routine is great,” Jesse sank deeper into his chair, barely biting back a gasp of pain that shot up his arm when he moved. “Reminds me of the old shows my ma used to watch.”

“Thank you,” Ana gave him a mock bow. “I’ve been working on my routine.”

Nevertheless, she clapped him on the shoulder. Jesse felt something sharp prick at his skin; a needle?

“You’ll thank me later,” Ana said cheerfully. 

Jesse gawked at her for all of two minutes before his head hit the table.

* * *

“What do you think, Overwatch material?” 

The three of them stood, arms crossed, eyeing their charge in the interrogation room. Gabe picked up a file, stamped JESSE MCCREE in bold, red letters - courtesy of Athena, watching their moves, immediately creating records of how their enemies fight. McCree had a surprisingly good aim, despite only having a shotgun, and then a tiny little pistol scavenged off a fallen ally, while his arm was broken. He also had the gusto of Reinhardt, storming into battle, running right up to his enemies to pepper them with bullets.

However, Reinhardt was a seven foot tall _beast_ clad in armour and a shield that could withstand anything other than a nuke. Jesse McCree had a _hat_.

“He has potential,” Gabe muttered. “Attitude, though.”

“What do you expect?” Ana lit a cigarette. “Boy’s terrified. We murdered most of his friends, he’s hurt,  _ you’re  _ there,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gabe scowled.

“No smoking in here,” Jack scowled, at the same time.

Ana gave them both a pointed look, before taking a long drag. “I like him,” she said. “He could be good. Not to mention, Deadlock bigshots will probably have his head the moment he leaves. You know how paranoid these gangs get. Kid’s got it rough right now.” She turned on her heel. “I’ll leave that decision up to you boys, though.” Gabe watched her go, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke and the swish of her coat behind her.

Gabe and Jack turned to face their charge again. The kid had slumped into his chair before Ana knocked him out, and now all Gabe could see was a mess of dirty brown hair lying flat against the table. His left arm had been injured, the boy had damn near screamed them all deaf when they were putting cuffs on him, but Ana had sneakily added a healing dart alongside the other one. While they had to save what little med supplies remained for their own troops, Gabe had managed to grab the bare minimum in painkillers, before the rest of them were shuffled off to the agents with bullet holes.

The boy shackled to the table had managed to grievously injure half his squad, but Gabe wasn’t a heartless monster.

He was starting to stir. Gabe watched him shift, then groan, then pull himself upright. He leaned back into the chair, head lolling back, stayed like that for a moment, before leaning forward.

McCree looked at the glass and spat something in Spanish. He swayed slightly in his chair.

“Well, that sounded pleasant,” Jack said dryly.

“Delightfully pleasant,” Gabe rolled his eyes, silently noting down the phrase for future use. 

McCree sunk back into his chair, like he was trying to retreat. The handcuffs chimed, the cuffs around his ankles harmonised, and the whimper the boy let out when he knocked his arm against the chair floated through the air. Gabe bit his lip, wondering if Ana was still around. She’d probably left for that very reason, that she might guilt a quick decision out of both of them.

Gabe and Jack agreed to disagree. Ana looked like she’d rather jump into the welcoming arms of a saguaro when she realised she had to help interrogate.

What Gabe didn’t expect was the sniffle that followed the whimper.

Both of them snapped up, stepped closer to the glass. Jesse McCree, smooth cheeked and babyfaced, bruised and battered, hunched up his shoulders until his neck disappeared. His mouth had curled into an almost cartoonish pout, but there was no mistaking the overbright eyes, the secondary sniffle.

Ana’s voice floated back to him, reproachful.  _ A  _ seventeen _ year old, Gabriel. _

Gabe bit his lip. Seventeen. 

“We’re taking him,” Gabe said suddenly.

“Are you sure?” Jack sounded apprehensive. “We’ve barely talked to him-”

Gabe watched a tear fall down the boy’s face. 

“Get me the paperwork, Morrison,” He clicked his fingers and pointed to the door.

Jack had perfected the balance between shock and sheer irritation at being ordered around. “Well  _ excuse me _ , Mister Gabriel fucking Reyes, but I’m pretty sure you own a pair of perfectly functioning legs. Asshole.”

“Listen, I’ll make up for it later, just get me my damn paperwork, if you please?”

Jack glowered at him before acquiescing, coat swishing as he half stormed out of the room.

Gabe watched McCree rub a grimy hand against his cheek, before his eyes squeezed shut in pain.

“Ana?” he called, over the coms. “We’re taking him.”

“Good,” he could hear the satisfaction in her voice. 

“He needs healing, though. Painkillers, at the very least.”

“Painkillers I can do. Tell you what, though,” Ana paused. “Get him to Ziegler. If he’s Overwatch now, he deserves a bit more mercy.”


	2. Angels

Everything happened so fast.

The voices, the bullets, the explosion, his arm, the pain, the interrogation, the blackness-

Now it felt like it had sped up even more.

Gabe waltzed into the room, keys in hand, a sheaf of papers in the other. Jesse was still hazy, from whatever poison that woman used on him, to the heavy throb in his arm. He flinched as Gabe smacked the papers down in front of him. A pen followed.

“Sign this, you get to come with me. Don’t sign it, you rot in maximum security.”

“What?”

Gabe made an annoyed sound. “Sign it. Or go to jail. Forever.”

“What am I signing?”

“A contract.” Gabe leaned against the desk, spinning the keys around his finger, the sound harsh and metallic in his ears. “You leave the Deadlocks, your past crimes forgotten. You work for Overwatch.” Jesse thought about Poster Boy, and made a face.

“You work for _me_.” Gabe said “ _me_ ” like one says, “I have a little secret.”

“What do you mean, work for you?” Jesse said. He felt like he’d just been hooked on a line and yanked out of water.

Gabe’s lips curled into a grin. “I run my own squad. Blackwatch. The dirty work. You should be used to that.”

Jesse stayed silent.

“Well?” Gabe prompted. “Maximum security ain’t gonna be fun for you. Especially if you walk in there with your pretty face and your broken arm.”

_It’s funny_ , Jesse thought. _He almost sounded desperate._

“My arm,” he said, weakly.

Gabe’s expression softened a bit. “I know. We’ll get a medic. Sign the papers first.”

It hurt, twisting his hands out of his lap and onto the table. Gabe had flung the pen just out of his reach, and Jesse winced at the prospect of reaching for it, but it was deftly picked up and deposited into his hands.

_Sign it._

Jesse scrawled his name across the dotted line, uneven and wonky, hindered by the handcuffs. He smudged dirt and sweat and smeared a spot of blood across the crisp white paper.

Gabe unlocked the cuffs and Jesse winced, cradling his injured arm.

“Welcome to Overwatch,” Gabe clapped him on the shoulder. This time, there was no sting from the needles, just the weight of his hand.

Jesse wasn’t sure what was worse.

* * *

They were in the air within the hour. Jesse had cleaned up as much as he could with his broken arm, that had now been bandaged even more and held in place with a sling. Ana waited outside, twirling golden and purple darts around her fingers when Jesse left the bathroom sans five layers of reddish dust and dirt and blood.

“Are ya gonna stab me again?” Jesse asked, wary. He never liked needles, didn’t like the ones the Deadlocks had. Poison, all of it was poison, it made his head spin and everything fuzzy and he couldn’t aim for shit.

“Only if you give me sass,” Ana pushed off against the wall, started to walk him down to the planes.

“Ma’am,” Jesse said. “They said your name was….Ana?”

“They didn’t, you just have a keen ear,” The darts between her fingers vanished, replaced by a cigarette. “It’s Ana Amari.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Amari,” Jesse ducked his head, wishing he still had his hat.

“So polite, even now,” Ana laughed. “My daughter could learn a thing or two from you.”

“Naw, Miss Amari, my Ma would have my head if I wasn’t,”

“Just call me Ana.” They reached the top floor of the building, dark and industrial and metallic. “Your mother?”

Jesse fidgeted with his sling. “She’d haunt me,” he clarified.

Ana picked up quickly. “So, ever been on a plane, Jesse?”

He was grateful for the change in conversation. He was hurting enough as it was. “Never.”

“Never been on a plane?” the voice belonged to Gabe and Jesse almost jumped out of his skin. Gabe was right next to them and he swore the man had just _materialised_ out of thin air. “You’re in for a treat.”

The plane itself was huge and angular and Jesse wondered how it would even get off the ground. Jack, Gabe and Ana waltzed in, Jesse tiptoed in after them, gawking at how spacious the interior was.

“You’ve really never been in a plane?” Jack asked him, while they strapped themselves in.

Jesse’s eyes were as wide as the moon. He could see the cockpit, the pilot chattering to someone through a black headset, and he could see straight out of the plane. The skies were clear and cloudless and the sun beat down on them.

“No,” Jesse said quietly, eyes on the sky.

“Really?” the pilot had heard him; she turned and gave him a wink. “You’re gonna love it. We’re cleared for take off, should reach HQ in a few hours. I’d recommend holding onto something, kid, take off can get a little bumpy sometimes.”

Jesse gulped.

Takeoff was anything _but_ bumpy. Jesse had watched birds shoot into the air, lift off with a few powerful beats of their wings. He figured the plane was much the same except they were propelled forward by a force that shoved him back into his seat. A roar filled the cabin; engines and propellers and all those other rocket-y things he’d seen on the exterior. Jesse held onto the seat as they shot into the sky, his stomach still back on the ground.

It continued for a few minutes and then the plane evened out, the roars replaced by a dull hum. Beside him, Gabe clicked off his seatbelt. Jesse remained frozen in place.

“Well?” Gabe asked. “How was it?”

“That was….” Jesse closed his eyes, gulped. “ _Incredible_.”

Gabe grinned. “Get used to it, flying will become second nature soon enough.”

Jesse watched them drift alongside a fluffy white cloud. The idea sounded marvellous.

* * *

If flying was incredible, Switzerland was even better. Jesse knew broken cities and red dirt and deep canyons, the screams of cars and carrion birds. He figured there were places _like_ this, but they were always so far away. A dream. Unobtainable for a scruffy kid roped into a life of crime.

Jesse liked old Western movies. They showed him familiar scenes, red dirt and scorching heat, and he didn’t have that _ache_ when he thought about the sparking cities elsewhere, the clear blue skies over snowy mountain peaks, the lap of the ocean against the shore. Places as pretty as a picture, drifting in and out of his dreams. One day he’d travel, see them in the flesh. Mountain peaks and the blue ocean, tightly knit houses hanging decorations for _Cinco de Mayo_ or strings of lanterns for Chinese New Year.

Then again, joining Overwatch felt like a dream.

The Overwatch Headquarters in Switzerland screamed money; glass and manicured gardens, splashes of green against the white and the stainless steel. It was high-tech, and shockingly _not_ military. Jesse had seen military bases, raided a couple with the Deadlocks. The base was too open, too bright, too public; a shining beacon of hope against the picturesque backdrop of the Swiss Alps.

It had its own airbase, an offshoot from the main area. They landed and Jesse made sure to shake the hand of their pilot, with a quick, “Thank you.” She seemed surprised at the gesture, recovering quickly to give him a toothy grin.

“All part of a day’s work,” she said. “You take care, buddy.”

“We’ll take you to Dr. Zieglar first,” Gabe said, marching him down a hallway so white it was blinding. “Or at least, _I_ will. Right?”

“I have paperwork,” Jack sighed. “Good luck.”

“I have a daughter,” Ana shrugged, taking off without another word.

The corridors were lined with windows, glass from floor to ceiling, and no matter where he looked Jesse was struck with clear blue skies, bright green fields, jagged snowy mountains.

“Is this place real?” Jesse had been awake for at least a day; he _had_ to have been hallucinating this.

“As real as I am,” Gabe clapped two hands on Jesse’s shoulders, steering him away from the windows. “We’re taking a shortcut to the medbay.”

The “shortcut” was two lifts and three moving walkways. Jesse lurched after the second one and Gabe had to keep him steady, but they made it to the Medbay.

It didn’t _look_ like a medbay. Huge steel doors blocked their way; no glass, no delicacy, just steel. It resembled a bunker more than a hospital.

Gabe tapped a touchpad. The doors swung open.

“Angelaaaa,” Gabe called. There was a main room - a waiting room, probably - lined with sofas and TV’s and more giant windows. To the left, Jesse caught a glimpse of white partitions and stretchers. It looked busy, lots of movement. He wondered if they were the Overwatch soldiers he had shot.

_It was self-defense_ , he thought sourly. He’d stared down the barrels of too many guns.

Gabe marched him to the right, through another set of steel doors that had to be opened with a touch. “You’ll get access to the medbay once you’re officially accepted, but not in here. This stuff is way out of your league. ANGELA!” he yelled again.

Jesse heard the clicking of heels on the hard floor. “Dear _Lord_ Gabriel, this is a hospital!”

“Medbay,” Gabe corrected.

“I’ll kick you _out_ of my medbay if you aren’t quiet!” A set of automatic doors opened and a woman stepped out, tall, slim and bright, like the scenery. Her pale golden hair reminded him of the lazy Swiss sun, her coat as white and pristine as the snowy mountains. “Honestly, Gabriel,” she let out a sigh, and Jesse was struck by how _young_ she looked, even as she chided. Her face was smooth - no wrinkles, no laugh lines - and almost _glowed_ with youth.

Jesse couldn’t place her age and it made him frown, despite her beauty.

“Sorry, Angela, got something urgent for ya,” Gabe looked sufficiently chided.

Angela noticed Jesse then, her sigh turning to a frown. “Who is this?” she asked, wary. “Gabe, you’re not supposed to bring unauthorised personnel-”

“He’ll be authorised within the hour, see, I have the paperwork,” Gabe pulled out the sheaf of papers and waved it. “I just need to you take a look at him first.”

Angela crossed her arms, pursing her lips. “And you couldn’t take him to the other room, with everyone else, because…?”

Gabe put a hand on Jesse’s shoulder, then one on Angela’s, and swiftly marched them both into the room Angela came out of. Jesse spied a desk, a computer with a black screen; to the far end there was a bed with a partition pulled to one side, with machines and more screens.

“Because he put most of them _in_ the medbay.”

Angela’s eyebrows almost shot off her forehead. “ _What?_ ”

“He’s Overwatch now, he answers to me,” Gabe said quickly.

“Does Jack know-”

“Yes, he signed off on it. Listen, Angela, kid’s hurt. Broken arm, dehydration, malnutrition, sleep deprivation,” he walked Jesse to the bed and sat him down.

“Malnutrition?” Jesse said. “I highly doubt that-”

Gabe lifted his uninjured arm. “You’re skin and bone, kid, dunno what they fed you at Deadlock but it wasn’t enough.” He turned to Angela. “Please? Once he rests I’ll take him out of your hair. You’ll never have to see him again.”

Angela quirks her lips. “Alright,” she said, defeated. “Where does it hurt, uh…?”

Jesse blinked. “Oh! Sorry, name’s Jesse McCree.”

“‘Jesse McCree’,” Angela repeated, scribbling it onto a clipboard. “I’m Dr. Angela Zieglar, I’ll be your doctor today.”

“Hi, Ms. Angela,”

“That’s _Doctor_ Zieglar.”

“You’re very pretty, Doctor Zieglar.”

Angela let out the smallest _tee-hee_. “How kind of you to say!” Jesse watched her reach into a drawer, then clap him on the shoulder.

“You might feel a little sting,” she said, all smiles, and Jesse felt another needle prick his skin.

“Maybe add “knocked his head on something during the explosion” to that list,” Gabe said dryly, as Jesse’s world turned black again.

* * *

Jesse woke to the night sky, the moon watching him through the glass windows in Angela’s office. He felt drowsy, like he’d slept too much, eaten too much, and taken too many painkillers all at once.

He groaned, started to stretch, and felt the tug of something taped to his skin. There were thin tubes coming out of both wrists and more wires slipping through the hospital gown he was now wearing. As he blinked away the fog of unconsciousness he heard a steady stream of quiet beeps, each slower than a second, but now increasing as he took in his surroundings. His injured arm felt like lead, and he noticed a plaster cast wrapped around his elbow. At least they fixed that up.

But still. So much monitoring, just for a broken elbow? He remembered Gabe ticking off symptoms on his fingers: _broken arm, dehydration, malnutrition, sleep deprivation_. Did that really warrant all these tubes and wires?

A more impending question: _who changed him into a hospital gown?_ Was it Angela? No, Angela seemed too prim to strip a patient of their clothes- though she did knock him out after he called her pretty.

He called her pretty. Jesse dragged a hand down his face. How sleep deprived _was_ he, to blurt something like that out?

Jesse’s stomach made a warning sound, snapping him out of his current train of thought. It reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since lunchtime back with the Deadlocks. He figured one of the tubes was probably fixing up the dehydration issue, but he needed _food_.

Was hospital food as bad as the movies said? Jesse wondered. Time to find out.

He shifted and heard a familiar set of heels. Angela glided into the room, coat streaming behind her like a train on a gown.

“Ah, Mister McCree. You’re awake.” she set a steaming mug down, and tapped at her ear. “Jarrett? Yes, sorry for the late call. He’s awake, call Gabe for me? And bring food,”

Jesse regarded her with sleepy eyes. She looked a little fuzzy around the edges.

“Just Jesse,” he managed. His tongue felt fuzzy. “Food sounds good.”

“I bet it does,” Angela perched on the edge of his bed, cup in her hand.

“What time is it?”

“0316. You’ve been out for about thirteen hours.”

“Thirteen hours!” Jesse sat upright, tugging tubes and wires.

“Careful,” Angela warned. “You’ll hurt yourself. Anyway, Jesse, Gabe entered you into the system without a hitch, your initiation ceremony is in two days, I performed all my tests and gathered almost all my information, but I still need to ask you a few questions. Will you be alright for it? Or would you prefer we do it in the morning?”

“Either is fine,” Jesse said. “Aren’t you tired, though?”

“No,” Angela gave him a crisp smile. “Let’s get started, then.”

The questions ranged from “favourite colours” to “any allergies” to background checks. Jesse was still hazy, couldn’t lie about the background checks as well as he could, and Angela noticed.

“Listen, if you’re worried about privacy, I have a strict policy regarding patient/doctor confidentiality. No one else will know.”

Jesse bit his lip. Angela watched him, curiosity and intent hidden behind her soothing expression; _it’s alright, you’re safe here, no one’s watching. Just you and me_.

He didn’t want to talk about it.

“My family is dead,” He said flatly. “At least, I’m dead to them. Dunno where they are. Got picked up by the Deadlocks when I was mighty young, couldn’t really stop and go back now, could I.”

He didn’t hide the venom in his voice.

“I see.” Angela kept her face blank, pen scratching at the clipboard. “My parents died in the war. I understand.”

Jesse leaned back against the pillow, staring at a spot on the ceiling. “Sorry. The war sucks.”

“It’s ok. You couldn’t have known. A couple more questions, then I’m done.”

It was over in a few minutes. Angela got up with a sigh, then promptly left the room. Even though the haze Jesse knew he did something wrong, he shouldn’t have been so rude. Gabe said he wouldn’t be allowed access in here once he was better, and he had no idea when Angela would return. What if she didn’t? Jesse felt guilt start to gnaw at his mind.

The door swung open and Angela glided in, preceeded by the scent of what was probably the most _delicious_ meal in his life. Jesse sat up straighter, watching her approach.

“This isn’t regulation food,” Angela whispered, as if the very act was against the rules. “I asked one of my staff what Americans like, hopefully it fits the bill.”

“Angela,” Jesse said, mouth agape. “You’re an angel.”

The giggle she gave him sounded much better than the first one, accompanied by a more genuine smile and a crinkle around her eyes. “Don’t eat too quickly.”

Jesse tucked into something fresh out of an American diner. Toast, eggs, crispy bacon, hash browns, mushrooms, tomatoes, sausages, _orange juice_ -

Angela sat on the edge of the bed. “Generally the food here is much healthier. You’d have to go off-site for a meal like this, or you’d have to blackmail the chefs.”

Jesse paused, mid mouthful. “How do I blackmail the chefs?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Close your mouth, _please_. You’re already making a mess, as it is.”

He finished chewing and swallowed. “Can you blame me?”

“No,” Angela picked a piece of mushroom with manicured nails. “IV lines only do so much.”

Jesse took a gulp of juice. Angela was fidgeting with the hem of her coat.

“What’s up?” Jesse asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Is something wrong?” Jesse paused. “Hell, you’re up and bouncing around and it’s two in the morning.”

“Three, actually.”

“That’s beside the point. Did you sleep, at all?”

“It’s fine, really. I took a power nap earlier.”

“Uh huh.”

Silence.

“I’m just,” Angela paused, mouth working, as if trying to put words to a difficult thought. “I was looking at the other patients who came earlier. From the mission.” she took a deep breath. “You did a lot of damage.” It wasn’t framed as an accusation, just a statement of fact.

Jesse stopped eating, inspecting the way the ice cubes floated in his juice. “I did.”

“But it was-” she stopped. “Sorry. I asked about families for the background checks. You and I have a similar story. It brought back memories.”

Jesse couldn’t see a link.

“I lost my parents in the war. You’re being dragged into a war.”

“You’ve lost me,”

“I know.” Angela closed her eyes. “The power nap wasn’t enough, actually, and I couldn’t get my hands on a drink.”

“The drinking age is twenty-one, you should be fine-”

Angela laughed. “This is Switzerland. The drinking age is technically sixteen, but they won’t give me a drink until I’m eighteen, at least.”

Jesse’s head spun. “Wait a second. How old are you?”

“Seventeen.” Angela stole another piece of mushroom. “You’re seventeen. We’re the same age, and the war’s gotten to both of us, regardless.”

“Oh, we are?” Jesse said. “I can’t believe you’re seventeen.” He stopped, the words sinking in. “Wait, you’re _seventeen?_ ”

“I haven’t been here long,” Angela said sheepishly. “I only recently became a doctor,”

“ _You’re seventeen_ ,” Jesse accused. “And a doctor! I’m seventeen and sometimes I trip over my own feet!”

Angela started laughing at that.

Jesse put his face in his hands. “My head hurts trying to think about this,” he groaned.

“You’re being melodramatic,” Angela said, stealing another mushroom. “I’m the one with the headache right now,”

“Is it me? Am I the headache?”

“Maybe,” she winked. “It’s more because I should have gone to sleep.”

“Why don’t you?” Jesse finished the rest of his meal, still reeling from that admission.

The smile Angela gave him didn’t reach her eyes. “I have casualty reports to file.”

* * *

Jesse fell asleep to the sounds of a keyboard, and the quiet hum of the machines around him - and woke to the doors of the room being slammed open.

A surprising sound, considering they were sliding doors, but Gabe managed nevertheless.

Jesse and Angela both jumped awake the sound; Angela had fallen asleep at the keyboard.

“I heard he woke up?” Gabe was practically grinning from ear to ear.

“God, Gabe, it’s not even seven yet,” Angela scrubbed her eyes. “Broken arms don’t heal overnight.”

“No, but his initiation is in two days! And he needs to start training, the earlier, the better!”

“Hi, Boss,” Jesse yawned. “What trainin’?”

That seemed to stop Gabe in his tracks. He peered at Jesse, who was still yawning. “You called me “Boss”,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Without me telling you to.”

“And…?”

“See, Jack, I told you he was perfect!” Gabe sounded like he'd just won the lottery. Jesse realised that Gabe wasn’t alone; he’d dragged Jack along with him.

Jack rolled his eyes. “How’s your arm?”

“Better,” Jesse said.

“It should be fine in a few days.” Angela piped up.

Jack turned to her. “Thanks for doing this, I know how busy you are right now.” There was a tenderness to his voice, like he was speaking to family. “ _Someone_ ,” he glared at Gabe. “Got a little enthusiastic and ran ahead. You’re lucky the board owes me a favour, they would have ripped your ass apart.”

“Jack,” Gabe said, completely serious. “Have I ever told you that you’re my _best friend_?”

Jack rolled his eyes and turned away. Gabe made a rude gesture behind his back.

“I saw that.”

“How about you watch me do this-”

“ _Gabe_ ,” Angela sounded exhausted.

Both men sent a muttered, “Sorry,” her way, and Jesse felt his respect and admiration for her skyrocket. What had she done to wield such authority, at such a young age? Whatever it was, Jesse wanted in on it.

“Anyway,” Gabe cleared his throat. “We were checking on you.”

“Shouldn’t have brought him to Angela and left him unsupervised,” Jack muttered. It clearly wasn’t meant to be heard by him.

Jesse shot him the most innocent smile he could muster. His thoughts on Poster Boy really hadn’t changed that much.

“I think you’ll find that I am perfectly able to take care of myself,” Angela said, stretching lazily in her seat.

“I wasn’t implying-” Jack said hastily.

“‘Course not,” Angela gave him a razor sharp smile.

Jesse frowned. Did Angela really think she could take him? Jesse had been fighting since he was thirteen, dragged into the Deadlocks when he least expected it. Fighting came from pure instinct, from the fear and panic and adrenaline pumping through his veins when he held a gun up to an attacker double his size, finger on the trigger.

_Bang, bang._

You shoot, you miss, you die. A wasteland mantra.

_Jack had held a rifle to his head, a terrifying sight; Jesse remembered wondering why his gun was so big and why it was modified to such a heavy degree, was he trying to compensate for something? It almost made him laugh, in the face of an angry blue reaper. Jesse never expected to live for long, not with all he’d done, all the lives he had taken. And he was certainly going out with a bang, the fight was long and hard and most of the Deadlocks in that fight were dead._

_But Gabe had said something, lowered his shotguns - black, sleek, plain - and Jack had done the same, glaring furiously. Jesse knew it was a second chance the moment Gabe appeared, an angel in the wasteland._

Jesse remembered Gabe’s scowl, his temper. He probably wouldn’t like being referred to as an “angel”.

Angela was the one most like an angel, soft spoken, with kind eyes and kind gestures. She’d also cheerfully knocked him out without batting an eyelash, and yelled at both Jack and Gabe - military, rugged guys, probably double her age, probably commanding officers.

Jesse blinked. Angela could kick his ass if she wanted to.

“If you’re both done, my patient needs rest,” Angela said. “Gabe, you can talk to him later.”

“It’ll be a quick talk,” Gabe said.

Angela raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to threaten him with something?”

“Maybe,” Gabe said, after a pause.

“Then you can do it tomorrow.” There was a finality to Angela’s voice, and Gabe nodded, defeated.

Yup, Angela could _definitely_ kick his ass.

“Later, Angela, Jesse,” Gabe waved at them both.

“Take care,” Jack gave them a curt nod, and they both left the room.

“Angela,” Jesse said slowly, testing the waters. “Does Jack always walk around with a stick in his ass?”

“Careful,” Angela reached into a drawer, pulling out an empty syringe. She made a show of sticking it in a small glass vial, drawing the clear liquid out. “It’d be a shame if you fell asleep again.”

* * *

Overwatch HQ had a grand entrance, sleek stainless steel and glass arcing over the main road running like an artery into the complex. It was lined with antique lampposts, state of the art cameras, and an almost constant stream of vehicles and patrols. It opened into a grand courtyard, surrounded by glass windows and slim white columns, the road disappearing into an underground tunnel. Smaller square gardens littered the area in neat intervals, canals carved between them, barely a footstep in width. Looking down, each canal had a glass floor with a distorted glimpse of traffic below.

It was here that the Overwatch Initiation ceremony took place. The stage rose above four adjacent gardens, civilians standing in the courtyard, media perched between the columns on the outskirts. Balloons and confetti were showered over everyone in regular intervals, the flash of cameras almost blinding. The cacophony of cheers and applause after each name was called was enough to give anyone a headache.

After the main ceremony, the new initiates and their families were ushered indoors, through grand sets of steel doors. Tables lined with food stretched as far as the eye could see, with a small army of wait staff hovering around the edges.

Jesse had to admit, that looked like fun. He watched the festivities perched in a chair in Training Hall B, a slice of pizza in one hand.

Blackwatch initiation had just taken place. Gabe waltzed into the room in a hoodie and his trademark beanie, holding a pile of pizza boxes that almost reached his chin. He placed it on a nearby table like it was made of porcelain, before turning to his new recruits.

Everyone got in a line. Gabe had an assistant; the two of them stood side-by-side.

“Blackwatch ain’t fancy,” Gabe said. “Never was, never will be. We live, we fight, we die in the shadows. No one cares for celebration. We do our jobs.” he paused. “We do what needs to be done, and it may not seem like it at the time, but we do it because it’s the right thing to do. Not to mention, Overwatch would fall apart without us.” he smirked at that. “But you kids are here, official members of Blackwatch. We live together, we work together, we die together. Sappy, I know, but I’m done talking, I have certificates to hand out.”

Gabe and his assistant down the line, shaking hands, handing out certificates - a clear mockery of what was happening upstairs. He’d stop around certain people and hand them things that had a clear personal meaning, everything from a tablet with a worn colour, to a bracelet that glinted platinum in the light, to….

“Jesse McCree.” Gabe stopped in front of him, looked him up and down. It felt like Gabe was looking, _really_ looking at him, past the slightly worn plaid shirt he’d worn, past the cocky curl of his lips, past his facades and his bravado and his lies-

Jesse stood a little straighter, stared straight back. He didn’t appreciate having his soul bared, even if it was Gabe doing it.

Gabe grinned. “You’re an idiot, but you’re an idiot with a good aim and a good heart.” Jesse felt like he’d passed an unconscious test. “Welcome to Blackwatch, kid.” He held out his hand and Jesse moved to shake it. Gabe grabbed his forearm instead, pulling him into a rough bear hug, clapping him heartily on the back. “And before I forget,” he added, as his assistant reached into a bag. “Here’s your stupid hat.”

Gabe stuck it onto his head; a wide-brimmed thing that hung low over his eyes. Jesse pulled it off, gazed at it like he’d just been given a diamond. It was a brown that reminded him of ranch hands and hay, similar to the one he’d lost in the attack.

“Now you can play cowboy as much as you want,” Gabe mussed his hair. “Just make sure you don’t miss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aiming to release new chapters once a week, especially since uni holidays are right around the corner!  
> So far this fic is about seven parts, give or take, and they'll all be roughly as long as this one.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I just want these poor kids to be happy, ok.  
> This fic is.....a monster, big enough that's its making google docs lag whenever I open it.  
> Also shoutout to razzledazzy, my lovely beta, and ciwu who read over this chapter for me too <3


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